i remember my first hurdles race in high school. it was of the 55 meter variety during winter track season, and i had known how to hurdle for less than a month. it was outdoors at my school’s track. i had the last lane – i think the sixth. the race started and i wasn’t too far behind everyone and even ahead some of the slower kids. my technique was terrible and my 5-stepping did not help. the worst happened after the third hurdle, when i landed off-balance and ran off the track and onto the grass. i watched everyone else whiz by and finish the race. i shook my head and put on a smile of self-pity as i walked towards the finish line. my teammates snickered at the unathletic display. i practiced more and got better, eventually learning to 3-step and compete with our relay team at counties and states, but i always remember my humble beginnings when i felt like my groins were going to rip and the space between each hurdle seemed miles away.

i woke up this morning and read an email that immediately threw me into a state of anxiety. it was from the Minority Advertising Internship Program with the following message:

Final decisions will be made on April 19. If you have other offers please consider those. Being a MAIP finalist does not necessarily mean that you will be placed.

talk about having the rug pulled from under you! my summer dreams suddenly became frozen like a terrorist’s bank account, and visions of idleness or the possibility of working retail clouded my mind. but in keeping with the spirit of jesus week (sorry, i need to milk this) i decided that a greater power had only thrown a few hurdles my way to challenge me. with this attitude, i did a jay-z shoulder brush and went on with my day. (*not really. i was down all day and it really sucked. i called my dad though, and he told me not to worry. and harry still doesn’t have a job, so we even talked about working together at menlo and playing tennis during the day.)

i look at myself in the mirror and see that i’ve let my hair grow more than the usual length. i’ve been shaving my head since junior year of high school (four years!), and have not let it grow back for more than three weeks’ length in all these years. i was tempted to grow my hair out just to surprise people and draw attention to myself, but seeing myself in this awkward state – looking like i need a haircut, but not having hair long enough to style – i have decided to give up on any plans to sport a new ‘do.’ as i have noted in my previous writings, i cut my hair in high school to look more athletic at track meets, where i lined up against clean-shaven black kids. in the process of having a shaved head, i was able to create for myself a sense of masculinity and distinction from other asian american males who stand in front of the mirror each morning applying their various hair care products. i also became a fan of shorter showers and that fuzzy peach feeling i get when i run my hand across my scalp.

i need to figure out how to construct a breach of incomprehensibility in my writing so i can be cool and post-modern. i think sometimes i experience it when i’m thinking and then all of a sudden an idea forms but it is expressed in korean. my korean is pretty weak, but the words that i do know can sometimes be the more effective language like when i woke up this morning and it was shibal jehsoo up ssuh right from the start. just kidding, that was contrived. i just said damn, that blows, and stayed silent. but u get what i mean? i swear, it happens sometimes ya beh go pa? gaht chee mug ul leh? but since korean is not a romance language, it looks pretty out of place and even more incomprehensible, even to a person who knows korean. is that big enough a breach? damn, i want to eat a kimbab.

one last thought before i give up on today’s pitiful attempt. i was sitting in english class again and i thought about my motivations for writing. i jotted this down:

how do i escape the feeling of pretention that hounds me when i engage in the practice of independent writing? i think the sadness lies in my commercial aspirations and self-glorification that i expect from these sessions. you know, like paul auster and his undergraduate crap that got published.

indeed – money, or the desire for some, is the underlying theme of my life. as much as i recognize the ignoble practice of valuing money so much, having it does open new doors. i paid off one of my credit card bills (note: “one of”) and i currently have single-digit sums in my entire checking and savings account. i had a few bucks in cash to spare, so i treated myself to a cafe latte at starbucks – tall – and wondered how sweet it would be to treat myself to a grande cafe latte each morning instead of the more economical coffee of the day. perhaps asking for too much luxury. and also, a sad sad reflection of how much my self-worth has degenerated that the cup of coffee i carry is my sole mark of dignity. i’m going to buy milk and use my coffee maker again. thrift! it’s a christian virtue! or wait, was that a chinese one?

the trifling and the trivial. i’m 21. beer in my fridge. goodnite.

-pk